Little Dorrit - Page 345/462

'I have persisted in every possible objection, and have worried

myself morning, noon, and night, for means to detach Henry from the

connection.' 'No doubt you have, my dear,' said Mrs Merdle. 'And all of no use. All has broken down beneath me. Now tell me, my

love. Am I justified in at last yielding my most reluctant consent to

Henry's marrying among people not in Society; or, have I acted with

inexcusable weakness?'

In answer to this direct appeal, Mrs Merdle assured Mrs Gowan (speaking

as a Priestess of Society) that she was highly to be commended, that

she was much to be sympathised with, that she had taken the highest of

parts, and had come out of the furnace refined. And Mrs Gowan, who of

course saw through her own threadbare blind perfectly, and who knew that

Mrs Merdle saw through it perfectly, and who knew that Society would see

through it perfectly, came out of this form, notwithstanding, as she had

gone into it, with immense complacency and gravity.

The conference was held at four or five o'clock in the afternoon, when

all the region of Harley Street, Cavendish Square, was resonant of

carriage-wheels and double-knocks. It had reached this point when Mr

Merdle came home from his daily occupation of causing the British

name to be more and more respected in all parts of the civilised globe

capable of the appreciation of world-wide commercial enterprise and

gigantic combinations of skill and capital. For, though nobody knew with

the least precision what Mr Merdle's business was, except that it was

to coin money, these were the terms in which everybody defined it on all

ceremonious occasions, and which it was the last new polite reading of

the parable of the camel and the needle's eye to accept without inquiry.

For a gentleman who had this splendid work cut out for him, Mr Merdle

looked a little common, and rather as if, in the course of his vast

transactions, he had accidentally made an interchange of heads with

some inferior spirit. He presented himself before the two ladies in the

course of a dismal stroll through his mansion, which had no apparent

object but escape from the presence of the chief butler.

'I beg your pardon,' he said, stopping short in confusion; 'I didn't

know there was anybody here but the parrot.'

However, as Mrs Merdle said, 'You can come in!' and as Mrs Gowan said

she was just going, and had already risen to take her leave, he came in,

and stood looking out at a distant window, with his hands crossed under

his uneasy coat-cuffs, clasping his wrists as if he were taking himself

into custody. In this attitude he fell directly into a reverie from

which he was only aroused by his wife's calling to him from her ottoman,

when they had been for some quarter of an hour alone.